The room bare;
by Brian Schwall
the odor of fear touches senses dear,
death completes its final journey.
The bed rigid;
form covered in grey now unmoving,
its sheet whispers aloud todays journey.
The eyes reflect;
the hunger guided towards tomorrows flight,
tears score the path of deaths journey.
The love unscarred;
as we stagger in retreat from our dreams,
to pray alone awaiting God's journey.
The room silent;
body still, its greeds and needs defeated,
beauty beginning, our soul's journey.